Song

Lyrics

Mic Check (Nas)
Mic Check
[CHORUS]
One (one) two (two) three (three)
Too many rappers and there's still not enough emcees
It goes three (three) two (two) one (one)
MCA, Adrock, Mike D that's how we get it done like
Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys we can turn it out
Perpetrators we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind let it out
Yo, I been in the game since before you was born
I might still be emceein' even after you're gone
Strange thought, I know, but my skills still grow
The 80's, the 90's, 2000's and so
On and on until the crack of dawn
Until the year 3000 and beyond
Stay up all night and I M.C
And Never die, cuz death is the cousin sleep
Cuz I'm back with the bang boogie,
Oogie oogie
Strawberry letter 23 like shuggie
Oh my god just look at me, grandpa been rappin' since 83
Oi'm supersonic like J.J. Fad
Got crazy ass shit pullin' out the bag
Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo cuz it's sad
All these crab rappers, they're rappin' like crabs
I have carte blanche, the vagabond
Nas is a narcissist, my pockets are rotund
I'm no killa, but compared to you I'm more realer
You ain't a.., a mobster or a drug dealer
A slug peeler, you're not, mafioso, no
You ain't got the cutthroat in ya, beginner
I ain't tryin' to hear your racket
You work with police dog, you snitch, you rat, you wear that jacket
How many rappers must get dissed
Gimme 8 bars and watch me bless this
I start to reminisce, when I miss
The real hip hop with which I persist,
Like Rum in mojitos
Bullets in banditos
Matzah balls and soup
Jackets and Troop
Yes Y'all, this is one for the history books
Nasty Nas, what's the word, count it off in the hook

[repeat CHORUS]
Cuz this the type of lyric goes inside your brain
To blow you bullshit rappers straight out the frame
My lyrics spin' 'round like a hurricane twister
So get your hologram on off of Wolf Blitzer
Too many rappers to shake a stick at
I oughta charge a tax for every weak rap
I had to listen to, cuz we be makin' stacks
Like Stax records
My squad we gotta pack
We never coming back
To all you crab rappers and hackers
And circumventers
Souped on splendor (???)
I
Take the cake, I stole the mold
The golden microphone, well that's mine to hold
And why all these biters all up in my crotch-space?
Sniffin', muffin, huffin'
And mean muggin' with a Blimpie Bluffin
Back up off me sucka, you ain't sayin' nothin'
I'm broader than Broadway, I was in project hallways
Dual tape recorder lacin' auditoriums all day
I'm just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay
And when this song finished, y'all can sing along with this
By the way I have a strong fetish
For Christian Louboutin' steppers, I hear Russian blondes the wettest
But anyway I better pay homage to my fellas
And that's what's on my mind,
And the rhyme who's next up?
Mike D. The man of mystery
History in the makin', and now we're takin'
Titles, awards, and accolades
Scarin' the competition as I sharpen my blades
We come together like peanut butter and sandwiches
Like pen and paper, like Picasso & canvases
Rockin' stadiums and shitty bars
Go back in time, send a fax from my car
[repeat CHORUS]